Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

The enemy leader stood, looking at the defeated Named females, triumph in his yellow-green eyes. He had them thrown back into their prison where the bars were shadows and the shine of waiting eyes.

Ratha expected a reprisal and she braced herself for a beating, but when New Singer and the males only tightened their circle, she was almost disappointed. Their captors had even put them back near the campfire, so that the females could mount another attack if they had the heart to try.

None did. They huddled together on the ground, Ratha protecting Thistle, Fessran defending Bira and Drani, others shielding their companions.

Again the circle tightened as all the males moved in closer.

The females all shifted to one side of the campfire, forming a many-pointed star with their hindquarters together and their heads and paws facing out. Ratha positioned the vulnerable ones, such as Thistle-chaser, at the center of the star, defended from all sides. They would meet any approach from the males with teeth and claws.

None of the males approached. As the night grew darker, Ratha heard a strange moaning over the crackle-hiss of the Red Tongue. It came from the males, who were now all sitting up, leaning forward with anticipation. The moaning grew louder, hungrier.

Ratha felt the growing warmth in her loins flare and spread all over her. Her skin became highly sensitive, making her move away from Fessran on one side and Bira on the other. She noticed that other Named females were doing the same, loosening and cracking their defensive star.

The males caterwauled, and a powerful musky scent filled the air. Bira broke from the group. She started to prowl back and forth, her ears flattened.

“Get back here!” Ratha hissed.

“I just can’t stay still, clan leader. I’m too hot and itchy.” Bira’s voice was strained. “This shouldn’t be happening. My cubs are too young.”

Ratha knew exactly what Bira was feeling. She, too, was fighting an overwhelming urge to fling herself on the ground, rubbing and rolling madly to quench the prickles in her skin.

Try as she might, Ratha couldn’t keep her friends together. The star dissolved and all the females began to prowl back and forth, the firelight gleaming on their undulating backs.

The males showed their teeth and lolled their tongues, infuriating Ratha.

“Stop that!” she screamed, part of her knowing that her demand was irrational. She charged their line, howling, but she never reached it. Waves of arousing scent met her and melted her anger into desire and distraction. Colors glowed and danced hypnotically in her vision. The male before her suddenly looked like Thakur and smelled so enticing….

She was barely able to pull herself away and stagger back to her friends. The rush of sensation still washed back and forth over and through her, rocking her on her feet. Everything was taking on a golden halo and a haunting beauty. Bira looked so lovely in the firelight that Ratha wanted to rub herself against the young Firekeeper.

She shook herself hard, trying to clear her head. She had experienced heat before, but never had it been so overwhelming, so intoxicating. She turned to Fessran. It was difficult to think, much less speak.

“What is happening, Fessran?” she managed.

Dreamy-eyed, her friend was slow in responding.“You’ve been … in heat before … clan leader.”

“But not like this. Not so fast, so intense …” Ratha broke off, her tongue too woolly to form words. Not even her first time, when she had taken Bone-chewer, were the sensations this intense. She felt molten, heavy, slowed. Liquid fire was flowing like thick lava through her limbs, her chest,her belly, igniting the places where cubs could come into life, grow and then pulse and surge their way into the outside world.

She suddenly wanted to be full, ripe, gravid, round, swollen with new life growing from the seed that only the males could give her. So powerful was the urge that part of her started up in alarm.

She fought to speak, finding that her voice seemed to echo and resonate in her ears, confusing her more than ever.

“Fess,” she pleaded, trying to see her friend through the rippling in her vision. “This … isn’t … the way … we …”

Fessran looked back at her, gold and green appearing and dissolving in her friend’s eyes. “The courting circle …” she breathed. “My mother told me …”

“Wha … what …?” Baffled, Ratha fought the glowing fog that seemed to have taken over her mind.

“We … used to … do this a long time … ago.”

“No, Fess, you’re imagining …”

“We did,” insisted the Firekeeper, starting to slur her words and sway on her feet. “Not often, but … we did. Before the light … was strong … in our eyes.”

“No, not … like this.” Ratha’s tongue felt impossibly leaden, but worse, she was starting not to care.

“Yes … thissss …” Fessran’s words trailed off, and her gaze wandered.

Ratha had to lift a paw and pull her friend’s head around before Fessran would focus on her again. Ages seemed to pass as she dragged a few words at a time out of the Firekeeper. The other females prowled around them.

Rocked by the resonating echo of her heartbeat in her ears, Ratha began to understand. She could almost visualize it, the Named males in a circle, and the females at the center, the harsh yowling that to her was starting to sound strangely beautiful….

That was the way of her kind before they were fully Named, before they cared so deeply for one another. Before they needed to be together apart from the others so that they could lose themselves in the molten velvet dance of lovemaking.

The thought drew Ratha’s gaze out to the males. Now they were inhaling deeply, drawing the corners of their mouths back, lifting their tongues in the scent-grimace.

Ratha realized that the heady scent in the air was not just male musk. She and the others were adding their smells to the enticing brew, drawing their captors closer. Ratha tried to flatten her fur, holding in the betraying odors, but they grew stronger than ever, making her head swim.

Something far away inside her huddled in fear while the rest of her body, strangely detached, glided back and forth, almost floating.

The fearful part managed to break through the gauziness wrapping her mind. It made her seek Fessran again, but the only answer she got was,“This … is … what … the courting circle does, Ratha.”

Ratha fought to hold on to the hard lump of fear and outrage, but it somehow melted and flowed away.

An odd sound met her ears. She had to close her eyes and shake her head before she realized that the noise was Bira crying.

“I’m scared,” Bira quavered. “Mating isn’t supposed to be like this. Cherfan used to play with me, cuddle me…. I can’t. I’m not ready.”

“They will wait … until you are,” Fessran said.

For an instant Ratha wanted to strike the Firekeeper leader, but she couldn’t make her paw obey. Her tail, however, lashed without being told to, and her mouth opened in a growl.

“I will … never … be ready. Not for any … of … them!” she spat.

Even as Ratha spoke, she betrayed her words, falling into the ancient fever of the courting circle.

“Will they take us away?” asked another female voice, squeaky with fright.

“Why?” Ratha heard Fessran ask.

“To mate. They aren’t … going to take us … right here, are they?”

“They have to give us some privacy!” Bira’s voice shook.

“Where?” came Fessran’s languid response.

“Behind a bush or a tree.” Suddenly becoming furious, Bira clawed Fessran across the face, startling Ratha. “You may not care, but I do!”